Bindings

A promise
Once made
Is carved on the soul
If that’s what it is

It is written
In the deepest recesses
Of whatever part you hold
Sacred

The part that death cannot touch
The part that whispers in your ear
And scares you at the cusp of sleep

Promises are more strongly binding
At times more dangerous
Often more dangerous
Than Iron

And a hotter
Much hotter brand
Than the steaming
Smouldering
Hiss
Of love.

She made a promise
To the realm
To a prince.
She begged.
She pleaded
She cajoled
None of it mattered.
Debts are to be paid.

What I left in my realm
Was the flesh upon which the debt was written
The mind in which the contract was signed
The eyes that sought to break it.

I know all this.
And so my vow to Mercutio
My promise we would all survive
Bound me.
There was nothing left.
Burn away my prints
Burn away my love, my prince
Tear holes in me with cold, cold iron
My flesh will wither
My body will be no more
But my promise?

Promises cannot die.

You promised, Arden, to give me the fire.
Promises do not die.

My promise could not encapsulate you
You were gone before I made it.

What fools these mortals be.
What fool these mortals make me.

And yet we fae
My prince
Are fickle and certain
We hunger for promises
So what promise
Did it make you?

I lived by binding myself to one who knows my kind
I lived to help those who do not.
Their promises are sweet.
Not filled with darkness
But with need
Not hungry, but wanting.
Not taking, but offering.

I do not know what darkness approaches
I do not know the taste of angelic flesh
But the piercing of my heart with love
The burn of trust on my hands

I hope we do not see the greatest trick performed again.
I hope you truly get your rest.

Goodnight, sweet prince.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.